


Wings

by ImperfectOrphanage



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectOrphanage/pseuds/ImperfectOrphanage
Summary: For what he did, he didn't deserve forgiveness.





	Wings

The café was in ruins.

Sanae made a mental note of what he would need to order, and when the list became too long to remember, he grabbed his tablet and began jotting things down. The foyer and seating area were the worst, with the front display being right behind it. Thankfully the kitchen had been spared and the back rooms weren’t touched at all. In the apartment above-that he rarely used-there was a long gash through the floor from the ceiling of the café.

It’d take a lot of work, but it wasn’t the first time someone trashed his place.

He began sweeping up broken ceiling tiles and bits of drywall. It was dusty and it smelled wet from a small leak between floors. Outside he’d drawn an elegant closed sign in chalk on his fancy menu board. People came and went and didn’t seem to notice the café or the sign.

He turned away from the door and continued sweeping up the mess. The chime on the door startled him a bit, but he ignored it the minute he felt the whoosh of familiar energy.

“My,” Joshua said, “he really did a number on the café. How unfortunate. I was hoping for a nice latte or maybe even a cappuccino. No matter. Did you get my text?”

Ah, right. The text from the day before. He’d completely forgotten.

“I’ll take your silence as a response.” Joshua sat down on an upturned wooden crate. He was playing with his phone and the smile on his face was one of peace.

It burned Sanae to see it.

“Oh, shoot,” Joshua pouted, “I lost, and I’m out of lives.”

Sanae continued to be silent.

“Now! About the text message,” Joshua put his phone away and clapped his hands, “I want to talk to you about a specific situation.”

“Obviously,” Sanae replied, kneeling down to sweep the dust and bits of café into a dust pan. “What’cha got for me, Boss?”

“Don’t call me that, Sanae. You know I’m not one for formalities when behind closed doors.”

“Yep,” he said, still not sure he should turn around to fully face the Composer.

Joshua crossed one leg over the other and sighed. “We should go someplace less dirty. Perhaps the throne room or-“

He couldn’t take it. The anger built up in him and he slammed the broom down before turning toward Joshua with a growl. “Go ahead. Do it. I know what I did.”

The Composer tilted his head innocently. “Oh? What’s this you’re referring to?”

“You know exactly what I’m referrin’ to.”

“Perhaps you should enlighten me, Sanae, dear.”

“The whole tryin’ ta kill y’thing.”

He received a giggle in response-a fucking giggle.

“Now, now. It’s not important. I’m worried about you,” Joshua said, voice cheerful as ever, “because you’ve been a bit tense. Have you taken care of those wings? What about your health? You look a bit more scruffy and your eyes are dark. I know you don’t need to sleep but sweetheart, I don’t like looking at you in such a terrible state.”

Wasn’t he livid? Didn’t he want to call the High Council and tell them to come arrest the fallen fucking angel that had attempted to murder him by way of a mad mathematician? Why was he being so calm and nonchalant about it? Was he waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike?

What was the bastard child up to?

“Sanae,” he stared at the barista with warm eyes, “I want you to come home with me.”

“To the throne room.”

“Mmhm.”

Inhaling slowly, he rubbed his hands on the apron around his waist. “Fine.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

“Look, kiddo, I know yer plannin’ somethin’. Just get it over with.”

Joshua giggled. He hopped up from the crate and held his arm out. “Come on.”

It took a full minute for Sanae to get enough courage to link arms with Joshua. The second he did the room shifted and they appeared in front of the throne. Joshua had changed into his more adult form and he hummed a song only he knew under his breath before sitting down.

The throne had changed from the last time Sanae had seen it. Instead of the stark black and grey lines and graffiti symbols, it was a nice, soft chair with a lamp and a little table. It didn’t look like a throne.

“Do you like it? I’m not expecting company, and I was meaning to catch up on my reading. It’s quiet in here and I can focus on the words. Come sit in front of me. I’m going to check those wings of yours.”

Sanae swallowed hard.

“I promise not to bite. Honestly, you’re being a child. C’mon. Full form and all six.”

His chest hurt. His heart squeezed. He’d chosen the city over his surrogate son and the more time spent in Joshua’s presence, the more guilty he felt. Instead of vocalizing his pain, he stretched his arms out and turned into a terrifying figure. He was seven feet tall with six black wings and several eyes on his face. His mouth was filled with sharp teeth and venom, and his limbs were stretched and each digit was tipped in long claws. He had the tail of a lion and the Noise-like feet of a cat.

“I find you incredibly beautiful,” Joshua said. He waited patiently.

Sanae sat down, facing away from the Composer as he spread his wings. The touch of a gentle hand made him shiver and he closed his collection of black eyes.

“Oh, dear,” the Composer clicked his tongue, “you’ve been ignoring these. I bet it hurts. I do hope you’re not forcing pain on yourself in some sort of punishment. Silly barista.”

He didn’t say a word. It felt nice to have the touch of Shibuya on his wings.

“It might hurt a bit at first,” Joshua warned, “but I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

Sanae nodded. He felt the slender digits slide in and out of his feathers as they pulled out loose ones and ones that were bent or damaged. It didn’t hurt near as much as his chest did.

“I’m going to try and save what I can, but you’ve thrashed your feathers. Deep breath,” he said.

A sharp pain rocked through his left middle wing and he hissed. It echoed up the arch of the bend and shivered down into his spine. Whatever it’d been hurt like hell.

Joshua held his hand out in front of Sanae. “You had an ingrown feather. You really should keep up the maintenance on these things.”

“Why are you doing this?”

The Composer made a soft sound between a teasing sigh and a loving hum. He continued to preen Sanae’s feathers as he spoke. “Now, I know what you did. There is no denying it. I know what you did because I know everything, Sanae, dear. But I don’t want you beating yourself up with some silly self imposed punishment because you think you did the wrong thing.”

“Think? I did.”

“Oh, no,” Joshua paused in pulling out loose feathers to massage the thin bones, “you were completely in the right.”

“I was going to kill you.”

“No, Sho was going to kill me.”

Sanae snarled. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Joshua laughed, “I know. Behave. There is a spot here that is bleeding and I need to fix it. Oh, there’s several. But what…ah, I see it. You’ve got an injury on your bottom left. It’s drooping a bit and I think it won’t be much use until it’s mended. I’ll bandage it up for you.”

“Please stop,” he whimpered. “Please.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Damnit, Josh. Stop acting like it didn’t bother you!”

The Composer’s hands worked a bit of gauze around the wound. “You’re a foolish idiot. It doesn’t bother me one bit. You chose the city over me. The person I was before the Game…before Neku…was different and cruel. I was cold. I had lost touch with the city and her citizens. I blamed them for the problems I saw and for the negativity growing like weeds in my beautiful garden. It wasn’t them. It was me.”

“You’re not,” he paused, swallowed, and his breath hitched, “mad?”

“I’m quite mad, dear.” Joshua poked him in the neck. “I’m not angry. I have no reason to be. As my Producer you are to keep me from doing anything stupid. You chose the city over my welfare and I cannot fault you for that. I can, however, fault you for your choice. Really, Sanae. Sho? He’s as unhinged as a barn door.”

“Heh. I suppose that was kinda stupid.”

“More like completely idiotic. I would be more upset if not for the fact that Neku could have crushed him in a heartbeat. Neku couldn’t shoot me, but I’m sure he’d have no qualms putting a bullet in Sho’s face.”

Sanae laughed. “Yeah.”

The two of them sat in silence with the only sound being feathers falling to the floor. It felt nice to simply sit with Joshua. It felt like Heaven just to be in his presence. He loved his Composer. He loved Joshua and he wanted Joshua to be happy.

“I’m happy,” Joshua said, voice muffled. “Ugh. I’m going to need the brush.”

“Don’t go readin’ my mind.”

Joshua’s hands disappeared and were replaced by a soft brush. The feathers flowed through the bristles and it made him choke on a moan.

In the UG, a person’s wings were their power. The wings were their soul in physical form and to have someone be so tender, so loving, made Sanae’s heart swell with warmth. He arched and squirmed, and a thousand ideas flooded into him the more Joshua worked.

Sanae had been suffering an art block in the last week or two, but with the loss of each broken feather he found his skill returning. He sighed, hugged his legs to his chest, and he fell into a drowsy state of half-awareness.

“And,” Joshua said, voice cracking through Sanae’s concentration, “done. Oh, wait. There we are. Perfect and beautiful once more. Now, I have a task for you, Mr. Hanekoma.”

He sat up and stretched his wings. “What?”

“You’re going to give my feet and legs a good rub down. Afterward, you’ll be working on my back and on my little wings. I’ve been so busy repairing the damage I wrought that I, too, have forgotten to take care of my personal needs. Perhaps once you’re done we can eat and have a chess match.”

Sanae pushed up to his feet. He slid back into his more human form and turned to take in Joshua’s soft features and bright eyes. There was a pile of feathers next to him, and a collection of fluff on his shirt and in his hair. The Composer looked more like a faery, and as Sanae leaned down to brush the fluff from Joshua’s hair, he kissed his forehead.

“I love you,” he said.

“You’re silly,” Joshua replied. He reached up, put his arms around Sanae’s shoulders, and smiled. “Now I want you to use the peppermint oil. It make my skin tingle.”

“Whatever y’say, Boss.”


End file.
